


Chopped Midgar: The Halloween Special

by firenewt



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Food, Halloween, Humor, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5129486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firenewt/pseuds/firenewt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little healthy rivalry never hurt anyone, did it? Competitors go head to head with some scary ingredients, and each other, in the Chopped Midgar kitchen!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chopped Midgar: The Halloween Special

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I took some liberties with the portrayal of Vincent and his alter egos.
> 
> Thanks to Soyna for having this contest so we could all have some fun!
> 
> Disclaimer: Thanks to Square Enix for letting me play in their world, and to Food Network for their "Chopped" series, from which I borrowed the idea of this cooking competition and their spiel. And a nod to Bugs Bunny.... abracapocus! :)

**Chopped Midgar: The Halloween Special**

Genesis tapped the mike of his headset. “Is this thing on?” he asked, peering around. No one was paying attention to him. The cameramen were making last minute adjustments, making sure the dollies were set for different angles. One kitchen tech was piling rutabagas into a pyramid, and another two were hoisting baskets into place. The make-up girl was fussing over Vincent, a worried look on her face. She bit her lip, shrugged, and applied another layer of what appeared to be a burnt umber coloured foundation to his face.

“I said, CAN ANYONE HEAR ME!” Genesis blew hard into the mike. There was an angry shout from a sound man, who pulled his ear phones away from his head and gave Genesis the finger from across the room.

“Good.” The SOLDIER smiled and straightened his coat, brushing imaginary dust off his pauldrons. It was hot under all the lights, but he wouldn’t take it off. It was part of his signature style, after all, and people needed to recognize him easily.

“Places!” the director shouted. The well-trained crew was poised and ready. Genesis ran his tongue over his teeth and turned to the camera. He felt totally comfortable with all eyes upon him. It was his moment!

“…three, two, one, and…”

Genesis smiled widely and his blue eyes flashed in the lights. “Good evening, and welcome to a special Halloween edition of Chopped Midgar, brought to you by the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company. Your source for reliable energy! Tonight, four chefs…three courses…only one chance to win. The challenge…to create an unforgettable meal from the mystery items hidden in these baskets, before time runs out! Our distinguished panel of chefs will critique their work, and one by one, they must face the dreaded chopping block. Who will win the prize, and who will be chopped!”

“Four competitors think they have what it takes to be the Chopped champion. Let’s meet them! First up, Chef Chaos!” 

The room couldn’t get any more silent, but the tension in the air suddenly increased as the looming figure entered and stalked to his station, settling his wings behind him and glaring over at Genesis, who ignored him and continued to speak. “Chaos has no formal training as a chef but he has a passion for snacking, whenever and wherever he feels like it. He prefers organic treats, and has lately begun to branch out into fine dining. Manners maketh demon, in his words.”

Chaos delicately smoothed his crest back.

“Next, Chef Gigas!” Genesis stepped back a bit to avoid the swinging arms as the next contestant lumbered in. “Gigas is a master of the science of molecular gastronomy. Tinkering with chemicals is his hobby and if something edible results, well, that’s a bonus, right, chef?” 

The attempted bit of levity fell flat. Gigas grunted, and Chaos folded his arms and looked the other way, his nose in the air. Genesis regrouped.

“And then we have Chef Hellmasker!” 

“heeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!” A masked figure lurched onto the set, beady eyes darting around and an unnerving high-pitched squeal confirming his excitement. Genesis disapproved of such antics, but it wasn’t his choice as to who the contestants were for this promo. He refused to move, forcing Hellmasker to swerve around him to get to his station. Unfortunately, that also allowed him to see the cleaver embedded as a prop in a post of the set.

“Hellmasker is a butcher by trade, so anything to do with meat is his forte. However, there will be other ingredients besides proteins in the baskets, and if he makes it to the dessert round, we’ll see what he can come up wi-“ Genesis darted forward and yanked the cleaver out of the post one second before Hellmasker got to it. There was a disappointed whine. Genesis pointed sternly to the third table. “You. There. Now.” He used his teacher voice and Hellmasker slunk to his station. However, he brightened when he saw the array of knives laid out in front of him, fingering them lovingly.

Genesis hung onto the cleaver. “And finally, Chef Galian!” He turned as the last contestant loped through the door and started sniffing along his station and around the basket in front of him. “Galian is an athlete and as such prefers a high protein diet to sustain him over long distance endurance races. Raw foods are his preference, and he is an avid juicer.”

There was a growl from the area of the judges’ table and Galian looked up, ears pricked. 

“Welcome, chefs! Here are the rules. There are three rounds: appetizer, entrée, and dessert. Each course comes with its own basket of mystery ingredients. You must use every ingredient in the basket in some way. Also available to you are panty and fridge.” Genesis glanced again at the teleprompter as there was a titter from the crew. “…uh, pantry and fridge. Each round is timed. When the clock runs out, our judges will critique your dishes on presentation, taste, and creativity. If your dish doesn’t cut it, you will be chopped.”

“Everyone ready?” Genesis swept his arm out with a flourish. “Then please open your baskets! And we have… a whole skinned goat’s head…natto…dinosaur kale…and gummy worms! You’ll have 20 minutes to make your one-of-a-kind appetizers. Time starts now!”

As the contestants started taking their mystery ingredients out of their baskets, Genesis turned to his right and then smiled into the camera again.

“And here to represent the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company as impartial and expert judges are…. First Class SOLDIER and Iron Chef in his own right, Angeal Hewley!” Genesis bestowed a saucy wink upon his partner, but the camera was focused on Angeal, who stared stoically straight ahead, his muscular arms folded across his massive chest. His buster sword was propped against the side of the table within easy reach.

Not at all put out, Genesis continued. He knew Angeal took all his duties very seriously and this was no exception. “And our very own foodophile vice president, Rufus Shinra! Let’s give him a warm hand!” he read off the teleprompter, and then frowned. This time there were several giggles. Rufus turned a lovely lobster red. The camera lingered on him as he fought to regain his composure. Angeal’s brows lowered menacingly and the camera moved quickly to the last judge.

Genesis was also glaring at the crew. Someone was begging for a smack. But, the show must go on! He turned on the charm again. “And finally gourmand and well-travelled epicurean, Vincent Valentine, who I believe is intimately acquainted with all of our contestants today!” Vincent shrank into the cowl of his cape; the red of his eyes contrasted oddly with the excessive make-up on his pale face. He looked almost as uncomfortable as Rufus at the exaggerated adjectives used to describe him.

Genesis leaned forward onto the judges' table. “So, judges, goats head for your first course. How happy are you?!” He grinned deliberately at Rufus. Vincent shoved his elbow, causing him to fall forward with a muffled oath. “Move your fancy ass,” Vincent grumbled. “I can’t see.”

“Language!” Angeal’s voice was just loud enough to reach them both. It felt more like the subsonic rumble of approaching thunder. Rufus inched closer to Vincent and muttered unhappily “I hate kale.”

Perhaps he thought that the former Turk would save him from all leafy green vegetables, or at least eat them for him, but Vincent emerged from his cowl like a cranky tortoise with someone rapping on his shell and gave the vice president a withering look. “Kale bothers you but a goat’s head doesn’t?”

“Well, I, uh…” Rufus’s cheeks flared again and he shrank back to his seat, not sure now where to go. He was trapped between a SOLDIER rock and a Turk hard place, and both of them were going to make sure he ate his greens.

“Blood will tell,” Vincent mused, folding his arms in reflection of Angeal, although his biceps did not bulge nearly as much. “After all, your old man is quite the headhunter, isn’t he?”

Rufus glowered, framed by two disapproving gargoyles. Suddenly he tipped backward, his mouth and eyes open in comical O’s, grabbing for the edge of the table as he lost his balance and Dark Nation exploded out from under his chair, barking and howling at the top of her lungs. Her tentacle whipped out, catching Angeal on the thigh and stopping him from immediately rising as the electric shock sent his quads into a spasm. The gifs that later showed up as a replay of the incident showed him mouthing a less than pristine word himself as he clutched his leg and Dark Nation scrambled past him to vault over Galian’s work table and tackle him. 

“DOG FIGHT!” Genesis yelled, distracted from the make-up girl fixing his hair after he had almost done a face plant in front of millions of viewers. He ducked as Galian’s container of natto sailed past his right shoulder and splattered over Vincent, festooning his long black hair like sticky, stinky spiderwebs. Vincent sat still in shock. Next to him, Rufus gagged at the smell, covering his nose and turning away. Kitchen techs were shouting; cameras zoomed in on the boiling mass of dark fur and flashing fangs that rolled out into the middle of the set; and Chaos gave a chilling chuckle that caused static to bloom across the monitors. The goat’s head at the center of the dispute skidded across the floor, grinning vacantly in triumph, and the two Hounds followed in a screeching, snarling tangle.

“eeeeeEEEEIIIII HEEEHEEEHEEEHEEEE!” The sound of chopping punctuated by maniacal laughter added to the din as Hellmasker hacked at his goat’s head with the largest knife in his kit. It did not penetrate the skull as a cleaver would have, but that didn’t stop him from trying, and bits of flesh and chips of bone flew everywhere. He hit an eyeball and the fluids squirted out, spraying him and causing him to laugh even harder. Overexcited, he grabbed a second knife and abandoned his station, lurching out from behind his table and toward a skinny young man in a horizontally striped long-sleeved t-shirt.

“Well! This is certainly a lively first round!” Genesis said brightly, speaking to the camera that he assumed was focused on him. “Shin-Ra Electric Power Company. We care! Five minutes left!”

“Dark! Come! Sit! Stop!” came a thin wail in the background, barely heard above all the noise. Rufus shook Vincent’s shoulder, then grimaced and wiped his hand on the man’s cloak. “Do something! That’s your beast! He better not hurt my Hound!”

Vincent blinked, looking around, and sighed. Quickly he stood, stalking over to the fire extinguisher and yanking it off the wall. Pulling the pin, he turned it on the beasts, spraying them, and half the staff, with foam. There were a few glubs and gasps as the fight petered out. Vincent grabbed Galian by the scruff of the neck and lugged him out the door, ignoring his whines and yelps. Dark Nation shook herself clear of the foam, grabbed the goat’s head and trotted back to Rufus, happily depositing it in his lap and giving him a smelly lick. He patted her head gingerly, cringing at the feel of skeletal teeth where they really shouldn’t be.

Unfortunately in the few seconds it took for this to happen, Hellmasker had closed the distance to his stripey prey and raised his larger knife, holding out his arms for a macabre embrace. Speechless with terror and deserted by his colleagues, the poor man stood shaking in his Doc Martins, his bladder empty and his horn rimmed glasses sliding off his nose. 

But with a flash of light from the hot set lights bouncing off its blade, the buster sword suddenly swept down, knocking the knives to the floor and continuing with a backhand stroke as the flat of the blade whacked the overly enthusiastic chef behind the knees and to the floor. “Enough,” Angeal growled, hauling the squirming squealing chef up and dragging him out of the room in Vincent’s path. There was the sound of a door slamming, and then the two judges returned, taking their seats again.

There was a small thud as Rufus finally got the head off his lap and let it roll under the table. Dark Nation followed it and could be heard gnawing on it industriously.

“Time!” Genesis yelled, determined to follow the rules to the letter. “Let’s see what our chefs have prepared!”

“Genesis,” Angeal said. “Don’t be ridiculous. Look at this place. You’re down two chefs and the other two can’t even get to the judging table.”

“I’m not ridiculous! People are counting on us!” Genesis paused, then turned soulful eyes to the camera. “Just like they count on the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company. We always come through! Because it’s the honourable thing to do.”

He could feel the resignation emanating from Angeal. “I suppose you’re right,” he said slowly. 

There was an audible sigh from Rufus, who had been hoping he could escape without tasting anything and make it home in time for the latest episode of “Husband Swap”. Vincent was using his gauntlet to try and comb the natto out of his hair and wasn’t really paying attention.

“But,” Genesis gave in, “perhaps we should just skip this first round.”

There was a rustle and Chaos huffed in indignation. “human,” he boomed. “here are my tasty snacks” His claws tapped the table beside his plates, which contained precisely arranged multicoloured squares sitting atop a bed of wilted kale. 

Beside him, Gigas also grumbled and shuffled. His plates were not as clean as Chaos’ but they were complete, and, in contrast to the demon’s cubes, he had made use of the technique of spherification to englobe the ingredients.

“Ahh…I see,” Genesis pursed his lips in thought, then quickly relaxed them to avoid wrinkles. 

A faint _rrrrrr_ was heard off set. It grew quickly to the _RRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNnnnnnnk!_ of a chainsaw sinking into wood and slicing through it. Vincent winced. “Excuse me,” he said, rising and exiting again.

While he was gone, the producer hurried over to Genesis and whispered in his ear. The SOLDIER nodded, his earring swinging, and cleared his throat. As Vincent returned, Genesis prevented him from sitting down again with an arm around his shoulders. “What…” Vincent began, and Genesis turned him to face the camera. “…smile” he whispered, “if that’s possible” and set a beaming example. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, due to an extremely unusual situation here in the Chopped Midgar kitchen, we have lost two competitors before the first round was completed. Therefore the decision has been made to allow both remaining chefs through to the next round without penalty. However, we need a third chef for the competition to continue, and luckily we have the ideal volunteer right here…our very own Vincent Valentine, the personification of Halloween! Just like the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company, we’ve got you covered in case of any unforeseen incidents!”

“But I didn’t…” Vincent had shrunk into his cowl again in bewilderment, but Genesis was having none of that. He whipped off Vincent’s cape and and head wrap and threw them aside in a flourish. “No cape!” he declared. “And let’s get this hair out of your eyes! Where’s that girl?” He stepped behind Vincent and held him still as the make-up girl hurried forward and grabbed the ex-Turks’ long black hair, swirling it up into a bun and fastening it tightly. She grimaced, wiping natto off her fingers. Genesis ordered “Net!” and she snapped a hair net onto Vincent’s head and over his ears. He stood there blinking like an owl at noon, his umber foundation contrasting starkly with his pale neck, and the hair net cutting a line in his forehead. An apron was slipped over his head and the strings tied behind him.

Genesis gave him a shove toward the now clean work stations. “Take your place. The entrée round will start in a minute!”

“But that only leaves two of us here to judge,” Angeal pointed out. “That won’t work.”

“Yes, we need three judges, so we’ll still have to cancel this!” said Rufus, starting to rise. “I have another commitment, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“Sit.” Angeal yanked him back down and his butt thumped firmly onto his chair. “You’re not dismissed yet.”

“SUB IN!” yelled Genesis, and a protesting man was herded forward by the producer. Genesis held the chair for Reeve as he sat, pushing it forward quickly so the Director was trapped against the table and couldn’t escape. “And here is our substitute judge, Reeve Tuesti, the Director of Urban Development, always willing to help when he’s needed, just as any member of the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company would do!” There was a smattering of applause amongst the crew, who by now were convinced that anyone who was brave enough to take part in this show deserved recognition, whether they worked for the company or not.

Reeve tilted his head back and looked up, trying to catch Genesis’ eye, and only got a view up his nostrils. “But, Gen! I’m an engineer, not a cook!”

The nostrils flared and snorted. “No matter. We all do what we have to for the company, yes?” His fingers unobtrusively dug into Reeve’s shoulders as they both looked back into the camera.

“I guess,” Reeve bit his lip and looked sideways at Rufus, who was staring at Chaos. He followed his gaze. “Oooh,” he breathed, his starstruck attention going back and forth between Chaos and Vincent.

With an air of great reluctance, Vincent took his place behind the next mystery basket. “I’m not a chef,” he muttered. “I can’t remember the last time I ate at a restaurant. Besides that donair place near LOVELESS Avenue.” He looked accusingly at Gigas next to him. “And I don’t think that should count because I’m not the one who likes shawarma.” 

“Let’s get on with this,” said Angeal. “I’m scheduled to take a cadet patrol out at 22:00 hours.”

“Alright, alright.” Genesis strode out from behind the judges table and rubbed his hands together. “Are we ready for the next round? Then please open your baskets!”

“humans, you will eat the tasty snacks this time?” Chaos glowered at Genesis and the judges, still put out over having his first course go by the wayside. A slight smell of sulphur filled the air and his wings rustled. He refused to open his basket. Gigas hesitated, then followed his lead. The two of them stood stubbornly, waiting for an answer. Vincent had a moment of hope that he might not have to go through with this farce. 

“Actually, I…” Rufus began but Angeal leaned a granite-like shoulder into him and cut him off. “Yes, of course we will. That was just a technicality, that we didn’t get to sample your previous creations.” There was a loud wet crunch from under the table and Rufus smiled weakly at the contestants.

“hmmph” Chaos settled his wings again and reached for his mystery basket. The others followed suit and Genesis heaved a sigh of relief.

“And you have…blood sausage…white asparagus…peanut butter cups…and pumpkin puree! This time you have 30 minutes on the clock. Time starts now!”

Vincent stood looking at his small pile of ingredients, drawing a blank. He was out of his depth and knew it. Gigas glanced over at him and grinned as he slapped a pan onto the stove and turned the gas on high.

At the far end of the row of tables, where his wings wouldn’t be as likely to get in the way, Chaos had already made two trips to the pantry and was setting up a meat grinder. It looked like he was about to make meatballs.

Seeing that, Vincent was suddenly struck with inspiration and ran to get a pasta roller. He vaguely remembered making pasta once with Hollander in the biochemistry lab when they both had the munchies one night. He hoped he could do it again…and he’d need to make a sauce, too. Time began to fly.

Genesis bounced on his heels. This was more like it! He decided it would be prudent to get a little air time in with the new judge before the round ended. “So, Reeve, what are some of the Halloween traditions that you grew up with?”

“Oh! The usual. Dressing up, trick or treating, giving out candy…that sort of thing.” Reeve’s dark good looks and animated speaking voice were in stark contrast to the reticence of his other guests and Genesis saw potential here. 

“What do you remember dressing up as when you were young?” he asked.

“My favourite costume was a duck.” Reeve said with a faraway gleam in his eye.

“A…duck?” Genesis had been thinking of maybe a cat, or a Dorky Face, or a stegosaurus. He was a little taken aback.

“Yes. I loved that duck costume. I wore it for several years until it got too small. I wonder what happened to it?” Reeve mused.

“Well, that certainly is tame compared to who we have here with us today in the Chopped kitchen, and the scary ingredients they are working with! Who knows what wicked things this way might come? Haha! Um, Angeal, what do you think will be the biggest challenge for the chefs with this basket, since there’s no duck in there?”

Angeal leaned forward, giving the matter serious thought. He considered the tank of liquid nitrogen being hoisted aloft by Gigas; and Chaos tossing aside the plunger of the meat grinder and using his claws instead; and Vincent valiantly trying to contain squid ink to one bowl.

“I think the peanut butter cups are going to be the most difficult to incorporate,” he stated, and sat back. 

“Hm. Terribly informative. Thank you. Alright, well, let’s see if you’re right! Fifteen minutes left, chefs!”

Rufus sniffed. “It actually sort of smells good,” he said, and despite himself, his tummy growled.

The _whirrrr_ of a blender working overtime cut off what Reeve was about to say to him in return. “Behind, behind!” yelled Vincent, dashing to the fridge and rummaging around in it. He ran back, doing a strange little hopping skip to avoid catching his toes and tripping on the rubber mats each chef stood on. “Who’s got the gods-forsaken ricotta?!” Gigas silently picked up a tub, scooped most of the contents out, and handed the remainder to Vincent.

“Blast you!” Vincent was feeling the pressure, while his competitors seemed rather unfazed. They methodically chopped, stirred, crushed and blended, while he struggled to keep an eye on all the pots and pans he had going. Sweat streamed from his brow, leaving white streaks in his make-up, and squid ink splattered him, adding smears and freckles to his piebald face. Pumpkin splotched the front of his apron and tomato sauce spattered the walls behind his stove. 

Steam from all the boiling pots and the mist from the liquid nitrogen gave a funereal atmosphere to the set. Chaos’ glowing eyes peering from the fog at a height several feet above everyone else’s head added to the effect. 

“Five minutes, chefs! You need to start plating! Remember, the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company is an equal opportunity employer for those above and below the plate.” 

“Plating?!” Vincent was still madly cranking pasta dough through the roller. He gritted his teeth and prayed to the great spaghetti gods that the sheet of dough wouldn’t break. He only needed to make four ravioli, but each one had to be perfect. There was no time to re-do anything. Careful, careful…

“And ten seconds left! Ten, nine, eight…” As Genesis counted down, hands and claws and gauntlets were flying so fast that they weren’t visible to the ordinary eye. Rufus and Reeve were clutching each other in excitement. Angeal kept a calmer demeanor but his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth.

“Aaaand hands up! Let’s see what our chefs have made!”

The cameras drew back as the three contestants made their way to stand before the judges' table. Genesis eyed them and decided he better let Chaos go first. “So, chef Chaos, what spook…err, fearsome entrée have you come up with?”

Yellow eyes flared brightly and the deep voice, sounding like it came from beyond the grave, intoned “Bubbe Goldman’s meatballs with mole. pumpkin asparagus gazpacho. microgreen garnish”

“I’m liking the spicing of the blood sausage.” Angeal smacked his lips delicately to get the full effect of the sauce. “But what’s that in the sauce? You call it a mole, but it’s more like a…a melted peanut butter cup with chili added. It’s cloyingly sweet with an unpleasant burn. And it detracts from the flavor of the meatball, which I _do_ like.”

There was a hot puff and the fiery eyes narrowed, focusing on Rufus, who opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and squeaked “…I hate asparagus” A growl blew his hair back, and elicited an answering growl from under the table. He squeezed his eyes shut. “But I like this! This is good soup! Even if it’s cold!”

“supposed to be cold, stupid human” Chaos was not impressed. He waited for Reeve’s assessment.

Reeve tackled the meatballs with enthusiasm. “Reminds me of my mother’s cooking,” he said with his mouth full. “And I like the sauce. Tastes like the chili rellenos from Cosmo Canyon. With that kind of metallic spiciness. And chocolate and peanut butter is a classic combination, in my humble opinion. I mean, who hasn’t had a meatball sub and peanut butter cups while working late? And the soup, yes, yes, very Halloweeny!”

Rufus choked and dabbed his mouth with his napkin. Chaos stretched one wing out halfway and preened briefly, his eyes half closed at the praise. “good human” he purred.

Genesis suppressed an eye roll. “And next, chef Vincent. Please describe your dish for us.”

Vincent stood at parade rest, with his hands behind his back and his feet spread slightly. He looked straight ahead. His hair net had slipped upward and the elastic now rested above his ears, making them stick out like the little wings on a fat chocobo. In keeping with the season he resembled a misshapen and mold-spotted pumpkin with candle wax dripping down it.

“Today I made for you a raviolo with a roasted blood sausage, white asparagus and ricotta filling, and a marinara sauce. I made a pumpkin pasta and a squid ink pasta, alternating them so the ravioli is striped orange and black.”

“Simple, yet elegant,” Reeve said. “All the elements combine to sing and dance on my tongue like I’ve died and gone to blood sausage heaven!” Their gazes locked and Vincent actually felt a bit flushed.

“Where’s the peanut butter cup?” asked Angeal. 

“I incorporated it in the squid ink pasta.”

“Hmm. I can’t really taste it.”

“Is there more?” Rufus looked up from cleaning his plate. “Did you only make one for each of us? How about that one over there? Can I have that one?” He pointed at the sample plate. 

“Uh, sure.” Genesis held onto the edge of the plate as Rufus attempted to fish it towards himself with his fork. “But only after you taste chef Gigas’ main course. Chef, we saw you making use of various molecular techniques, as you did for your appetizer. What did you create this round?”

The gravelly voice was succinct. “Gigas bites.”

Vincent twitched at the unexpected description, and even Angeal’s mouth quirked up before he controlled himself. Rufus giggled and Genesis guffawed out loud. “That answer should count toward creativity, don’t you agree, judges?”

In front of each of them was a strange arrangement of a frozen white asparagus spear with a pink-tinged tip standing upright at an angle. The blunt end was embedded in a double spoonful of pumpkin, thickened with ricotta cheese and pectin so the mounds were firm yet jiggly. Frozen peanut butter cup shavings were scattered over the orange base, and a meat foam cascaded from the asparagus tip and billowed over the edge of the plate.

“I…don’t think I can eat this,” Rufus murmured, as the foam overflowed the lip of his dish and crept toward him in a disturbingly sentient manner.

“How…interesting,” Reeve searched for something more complimentary to say. He gamely poked his fork into a pumpkin ball and tried it. “Rather bland,” he managed.

“This is a creative dish but not an honourable one,” said Angeal sternly. Never one to mince words, he called a spade a spade. “This looks like a zombie out there is missing its private parts.” He snapped the frozen asparagus spear in two. “An innovative use of molecular techniques, yes, but there is no seasoning, no additions from the pantry to make a complete dish, and the actual use of the mystery ingredients is minimal. You didn’t really re-purpose them.”

“no like..?” Gigas was agitated, his hands clenching into huge fists. Vincent put out a cautionary gauntlet, trying to calm him.

“No. I’m afraid this is the least successful dish of this round,” said Angeal. “You have been chopped.”

“….I’m just afraid,” murmured Reeve, and Rufus gripped his arm in sympathetic fear.

“NO CHOP!!” Gigas roared, throwing his fists in the air and stomping forward, sweeping them across the judges' table and sending all the plates on it to the floor; and then turning to his work station and bringing them down onto the stainless steel surface with a resounding crash. The metal folded in half; equipment and food went flying; the carbon dioxide cartridge in the foaming canister broke and the canister zoomed around the room like a missile before embedding itself in a wall and exploding. 

Screams from the crew and roars from Gigas over the crunching of broken crockery and more smashing of tables and pantry shelves made it difficult to sort out what was happening. Rufus slid under the table with Dark Nation, while Reeve sat and gawked like a deer in the headlights. He wanted to see what would happen and was oblivious to the danger he was in. Suddenly his view was blocked by a soft, musky curtain, and he was flustered to realize that Chaos had moved to prevent him from getting hurt.

Angeal and Vincent closed in from either side and slowly managed to outflank and herd the enraged Gigas into a corner. Vincent picked up the anti-griddle and whirled it around, smacking Gigas in the side of the head with it. He went down like a ton of headstones, a frozen patch on his cheek, but he wasn’t completely out. Angeal quickly knelt and snapped a pair of binders on him. “These are meant to hold a SOLDIER. They’ll keep him contained until he cools down.” He hoisted him up and threw him over his shoulder. “I’ll put him with the others.”

A few minutes later Angeal stalked back toward the judges' table. He glared accusingly at the director and producer, who were just emerging from a storage closet in the corner of the set where they had taken refuge. “I’m beginning to think I wasn’t invited here just because of my cooking abilities,” he grouched, and they had the grace not to deny it.

Two cameras had shattered and half the crew had made a break for it during the latest ruckus, yet Genesis was determined to continue. “One more round, ladies and gentlemen!” The desserts will determine who becomes the Chopped Midgar champion! Stay tuned and we’ll return after these messages from our friendly sponsor, the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company. You’re in good hands with us!”

The remaining techs scrambled to clean up and get the stations set for the final round. It was hard for them to work while looking fearfully over their shoulders at Chaos. The demon had unwrapped Reeve from his wings and patted him on his head. “little human is safe’” he rumbled. “can eat more”

For once Reeve was at a loss for words. It took him a moment to regain his bearings and thank the demon. Then he noticed that Vincent was watching him closely from where the make-up girl was attempting damage control with his face and hair. He stammered and gulped and just sat there grinning like a fool.

Angeal righted his chair, and reached down to pull Rufus up by his arm. The vice president looked more annoyed than frightened: this sort of thing happened fairly regularly to him. If it wasn’t a monster or an assassin, it was a Turk having a bad day. He flipped his hair back and sat down, straightening his jacket as the make-up lady came to powder his nose.

The commercial segment was nearly over and Genesis took center stage again. “Welcome back for the final round of this most exciting and scary Halloween special! Only two chefs remain, and this promises to be a battle to the death! err…” Vincent scowled at the poor choice of words. How had he ended up here? He had no desire to battle anyone, let alone to the death. He’d rather be at home having a nap.

“Alright, chefs. Time to open your last mystery baskets of the day! And you have…blood orange sherbet…beef heart…chocolate coffin cookies…and maple syrup! You have thirty minutes on the clock, and your time starts now!”

Feeling like he was a fox being pursued by hounds from hell, Vincent sprinted to the pantry for sugar and orange cognac. There was a brief scuffle at the fridge as Chaos reached over him, grabbing butter, eggs, cream and dark beer. Vincent snatched the second bottle of heavy cream before the demon could take that, too.

“Looks like it might be a battle for the ice cream machine! Could it be that someone might be making heart ice cream?” Genesis speculated.

Rufus’ alarmed expression was echoed by Reeve. They looked at each other and Reeve said “Nope!” If it came to that, by their consensus Angeal would be left to taste it on his own.

Vincent scoffed as he tore open the package of coffin cookies. He popped one in his mouth, munching as he thought. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Chaos had all his cookies in a food processor and was crushing them into fine crumbs. Taking advantage of the fact that the demon’s attention was on that, Vincent grabbed his bowl of sherbet, quickly whisked in some cream and cognac and dashed to the ice cream machine. His hair net was gone and his bun unraveled again, leaving a ponytail trailing behind him as he jogged back to his station. Chaos snarled at him as he went by and Vincent blew a raspberry at him. “Everybody hates a sore loser,” he said solemnly. “Oh, and behind.” Chaos stuck out a wing tip, and Vincent dodged it easily. 

Next he tackled the beef heart. It was a nasty ingredient at any time, but how could one possibly use it in a dessert? He cut it up and cleaned it as he thought, removing the chordae tendineae and bigger vessels and paring it down to slivers of clean muscle. He threw those in a hot pan to sear, still not sure what to do with them.

Chaos was using his claws instead of his knives, tearing the heart apart and mincing it finely. Minutes were ticking by and the heat in the kitchen was steadily increasing.

“He’s baking something! What is he baking?” asked Reeve, craning his neck and trying to see what Chaos was putting into the oven. “There won’t be enough time for it to cook!”

Vincent glanced up at the clock and then at the remaining mystery ingredients on his station. He grabbed the maple syrup and dumped some in with the heart, and added a splash of the orange cognac. There was a soft _whump!_ and flames shot up from the pan, momentarily blinding him. He wasn’t expecting the acrid smell; it was not at all the smell of roasting meat but more like burning hair and leather, and then he noticed that part of Chaos’ wing had flamed up, too. The demon whirled, shaking his wing to put the flames out but he had no time to stop. 

“Abracapocus” Vincent grinned, then yelped as his ponytail was yanked, nearly causing him to spill the contents of his pan onto the floor. 

“hocuscadabra” Chaos rasped back. 

“Five minutes!” yelled Genesis.

“My ice cream!” Vincent ran to the machine, praying that the cream had not overchurned.

“cake!” Chaos reached into the oven and pulled out his cake, not bothering to use mitts. It was still a bit loose in the center and he set it on the stove and breathed on it, finishing cooking it faster than any oven would. 

“Is that even legal?!” asked Rufus. Angeal stroked his chin thoughtfully and didn’t answer. 

“…..five, four, three, two, one, hands up!” Genesis shrieked, his voice cracking. Horrified, he paused and clutched his throat. “I am going to need a spa day after this!” he gurgled. “What an intense round to finish off an incredible day here in the Chopped kitchen! Chefs, let’s move right to the judging!”

This time only two stood in front of the judges' table. At this point everyone remaining in the room was looking much the worse for wear, but the two contestants in particular were battered, burned and bedraggled. Still, they both stood straight and ready to defend their dishes.

“First up, let’s hear from chef Vincent!”

“I have for you a blood orange cognac ice cream, on chocolate coffin cookie mascarpone graveyard dirt, with a maple candied heart garnish. Please enjoy.”

There was a pregnant pause as all three judges tasted the offering. Vincent clasped his hands behind his back and kept his face blank.

Angeal chewed thoughtfully on a sliver of heart. “It tastes like maple glazed bacon,” he said. Rufus immediately tried his and his eyebrows went up in astonishment. “It goes well with the orange of the ice cream, and the chocolate dirt. Very clever,” Angeal approved.

“However, I don’t think you did much with the sherbet. Changing it from a sherbet to an ice cream is rather unimaginative. Wouldn’t you agree?” Reeve said.

“I’m not sure I like the mascarpone taste with the ice cream,” Rufus added, licking his spoon. But he had cleaned his bowl.

“Thank you, chef. And last, but not least, chef Chaos. Please tell us what you made for dessert!”

“chocolate orange beer cake. maple toffee walnut heart brittle. whipped cream with orange zest. mint sprig”

“mmm…mmmhmm” Rufus’ mouth was full. He wasn’t hesitant about trying the heart this time and the pleased look on his face said it all.

“Very nice. The cake is perhaps a bit overdone, slightly dry, but the whipped cream makes up for that.” Angeal indulged himself in another bite.

“Ohhh, my goodness! Chocolate and orange…and beer!” Reeve was in raptures. “I could do this job all day, every day, if I get fed like this! But then pretty soon I’d be as big as Pres…err…Palmer.” He glanced sideways at Rufus, who deliberately ignored him and scooped up the last of his whipped cream.

“Both desserts certainly looked good from here,” Genesis said, “even though I didn’t get to try aaaanything! But now, judges, you’ll have to make a difficult decision based not only on the desserts, but on all three…or rather, two, courses that you were given.”

The three at the table turned around and put their heads together, murmuring, occasionally glancing at the two contestants who were waiting impatiently. Reeve swore he saw Chaos wink at him and hastily turned back to listen to Angeal. This was serious business.

Vincent wiped a hand across his brow, frowning at the dark smear of foundation that it left on his palm. He needed a tea and a foot massage. Perhaps he’d join Genesis on his spa trip. After he paid a little visit to whoever had volunteered him for this debacle in the first place.

The judges turned around. “Have you come to a decision?” Genesis asked.

“We have,” Naturally, Angeal was the spokesperson. “After considering both main course and dessert, it was close. Very close. But the new Chopped Midgar Halloween champion is…chef Vincent Valentine. By a hair.”

There was dead silence. 

“Chef Valentine, you now have the honour of calling yourself Chopped Champion, and your prize is a two week all expenses paid vacation in Costa del Sol, at a private Shin-Ra beach. Congratulations.” Angeal stepped out from behind the judges' table, shook Vincent’s hand and handed him a thick envelope embossed with the company logo.

Vincent blinked. A beach vacation? In Costa? What he supposed to do there? Lie in the sun all day like a giant white slug and burn to a crisp? “But,” he said. “I want a new car.”

“Sorry,” Genesis said briskly. “Only one prize, and it’s to be awarded as is. No substitutes. You’ll like Costa.”

“I’ve been there. I don’t like it,” Vincent muttered unhappily.

It still hadn’t dawned on the ex-Turk that no one but Angeal had congratulated him, and that in fact, there was no sound at all on the set. Beside him, Chaos seemed to grow bigger. And darker. And finally the silence was broken. 

“ooonnnllly ooonnne priiiiiize?”

“That is the nature of a contest.” Angeal was steady. “One winner, one prize.” His eyes flicked to Genesis, who nodded slightly and edged toward the exit, standing in front of the door and reaching behind himself to make sure it was unlocked.

A moaning sigh passed through the room like the angel of death looking for victims in a dark, deserted ghost town. 

“then i claim my prize” Chaos spread his wings, blocking the actinic glare from the halogen lights. The floor shook.

Vincent held out his envelope and hastily assured him. “Sure, you can have the prize! I’d be happy to give it to you. You can go bask in the sun all you want. No worries!”

Genesis threw open the exit door. “Well!” he said loudly, pasting a huge smile on his face. “It’s been a grand show here in the Chopped Midgar kitchen! One of a kind really! We at the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company hope you enjoyed it and will tune in again for our upcoming Yuletide special in December. But all good things come to an end, and now we must bid you all adieu!” 

Angeal was motioning to the remaining crew: they crept behind Chaos, making their way stealthily toward the exit. Genesis continued his spiel. “Don’t forget to stock up on Shin-Ra Bits and Bites mini-chocolate bars…just the right size for all the little goblins and Hell Houses that come to your door this Halloween! Right this way, ladies and gentlemen, single file, or in pairs, as the case may be. No pushing!” He stood between Chaos and the terrified humans.

Unfortunately, at that moment, their collective nerve broke and there was suddenly a screaming mass of flesh pushing toward the exit. Equipment was abandoned; feedback from the mikes tore through the air; and millions of viewers wondered what was going on now as their monitors were filled with static snow interspersed with tilted action pans of various body parts grappling and shoving. At one point there was a shot of Rufus clinging like a monkey to Angeal’s broad back, and the expression on his face was hard to decipher. Genesis could be heard in the background, still shilling for the company and putting a positive spin on the current crisis. A last glimpse of Vincent looking disgruntled and holding a Shin-Ra travel chit was obscured by a wing slashing through the air, blotting out any further transmissions.

“my prize!” Chaos roared. He swept forward, plucking a gaping Reeve from where he was standing behind the table, and powered up, up, bursting through the roof of the studio. There was a cascade of ceiling tiles, mortar and other debris. Somewhere else in the building an alarm began to sound.

The set was empty now. Genesis helped the producer, who had nearly been trampled, to his feet and ushered him out the door, then turned to survey the shambles. If things hadn’t gone as planned, at least it had been a memorable show. Probably one of the highest rated this year, he’d wager! And he was all about making a lasting impression on people. Yes, from his point of view, it had been a success!

He flashed one last brilliant smile at Vincent, who still stood at his mark, ponytail draggled half out of its tie, and envelope in hand. “What am I supposed to do with this?” Vincent scowled.

Genesis shook his hair back, his earring twinkling. “Enjoy your holiday, Chopped champion!” He took a last look around the demolished set, chuckled and turned to go. “And don’t forget to turn off the lights when you leave. The Shin-Ra Electric Power Company believes in the environmentally friendly three R’s…reduce, re-use, recycle!”

“Wait!” But Vincent was too late. He stood alone in the mess, gloomily contemplating his beach vacation. “…where’s my cape..?”


End file.
